


the joy we take for granted (and how to appreciate the little things in life)

by ActuallyMe



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Not Beta Read, Not Me!, Soz, The TARDIS Helps, Who Knows?, a bit of angst, doctor might go a bit dark, they were supposed to go to my favourite city in the world but things ran away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/pseuds/ActuallyMe
Summary: Yaz’s voice wavers as she loses her confidence, “I know you’re tired, and this isn’t the right time, but I needed to say it. In case there isn’t a next time. I didn’t, you know. On Gallifrey.”The one where the Doctor tries to take Yaz on a date and the TARDIS intervenes.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 48
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter One

The Doctor is tired. 

When Yaz looks at her like she is the whole world, she feels the weight of the universe on her shoulders. Yaz is twenty. _Twenty_. The Doctor is a thousand years old, maybe older if the whole Timeless Child thing is to be believed--and all her research points to its veracity. So as old as the Time Lords, an ancient race even by the universe’s standards. Yaz is young, and impressionable, not to mention beautiful and kind, and no, the Doctor can’t really do this again. Because the last time she loved in that way, her wife sacrificed her own life to save the Doctor. And the time before that? Her lover got trapped in an alternate dimension with no knowledge of the Doctor’s existence.

But she is weak, and when Yaz looks at her like that, the Doctor’s stomach does funny things.

She knows how Yaz feels, has done since before her imprisonment. The Doctor may not be the best with social cues in this iteration, but she’s lived long enough to recognize when someone’s caught feelings and has seen that expression on many companions’ faces.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” the Doctor finally says, giving a cheery smile and trying to let it linger long enough not to seem fake. She doesn’t really feel like it. She is malnourished and exhausted and has been deprived of the sun, or the direct radiation from any star, in over eight months. Has it been eight months? Telling the passing of time in a space prison is a crapshoot at best.

Thankfully, Jack is good at what he does, and he didn’t bring the fam with him to break her out. She’d gone straight to see them all, picked them up for a reunion cuppa, and told them about her daring escape.

Now, after saying her goodbyes and dropping Graham and Ryan off at home, she still has to give Yaz back. For all the Doctor’s hesitance to start something, she sure is delaying the homecoming.

“So—” the Doctor begins.

“I love you.” Yaz says. No preamble. No pretense. The Doctor steps back and closes her eyes. She’s heard that before, but not from this person. Not from Yasmin Khan. Yaz, her friend, the one who didn’t want to let her die on a dead planet, who tried to stop her but let her go when she realised the Doctor was serious. Yaz. Beautiful, wonderful Yaz.

Yaz’s voice wavers as she loses her confidence, “I know you’re tired, and this isn’t the right time, but I needed to say it. In case there isn’t a next time. I didn’t, you know. On Gallifrey.”

Her words burst in the air, amongst the whirring and the pops of the TARDIS. The TARDIS, bless her, she turns the lights down low. Cheeky.

The full weight of Yaz’s confession hits, and Doctor’s heart melts. How has this young woman managed to unravel her so quickly? “Yaz, I--”

“You don’t have to say it back. I know you don’t feel the same way.”

The Doctor opens her eyes, and Yaz is putting on a brave face, but there are tears threatening on the horizon.

Yaz continues, “I just have been sitting on this for a while. And you deserve to know.”

“Hold on a minute. Who says I don’t feel the same way?”

Yaz’s eyebrows furrow. “You’ve never, I dunno, given me any indication of anything. You treat me the same as Ryan and Graham. I mean. It’s fine, Doctor. You don’t have to. Feel the same way, I mean.”

The Doctor’s resolve breaks. She can only be so strong for so long. She steps forward toward Yaz, who doesn’t move, only looks at her with those big, brown eyes.

“I…” She begins, her throat closing from nerves. “I don’t want to hurt you, is all.” Her arms reach toward Yaz and then drop, dejected. “This is hard. People have been hurt because I loved them. People have died because I loved them. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“You won’t lose me.”

“I might. Statistically speaking, I will. You’ll be hurt, or die, or leave because you have a life to live.”

Yaz quirks an eyebrow. “I’m right here,” she says, quietly. 

“You are,” the Doctor concedes. She steps away toward the console. 

Yaz sounds hesitant, even in her boldness. “We don’t have to begin with ‘I love yous.’ We can start small. Get dressed up. Go somewhere nice.”

Despite herself, the Doctor grins. “Yasmin Khan, are you asking me out on a date?”

Yaz bites her lip, and suddenly, the Doctor wishes it were her teeth pressing down on the soft skin there. “Yeah.” Yaz’s soft voice grows louder as she continues, “I am. You’ll have to drive, though.”

The Doctor bursts out into laughter. “You brilliant, brilliant woman.” She brushes her hair out of her eyes, behind her ear. “Okay. I’m game. Where do you want to go?”

Yaz is smiling, too, and she approaches the Doctor almost casually, but there’s nothing casual about the way Yaz looks at her.

“I’ve heard Lisbon is lovely in the spring.”

“Oooh, Lisbon it is.”


	2. Chapter Two

Either the TARDIS is trying to make another point, or the Doctor is distracted.

Yaz isn’t normally so sappy, though that isn’t the right term. Direct? Bold? No, Yaz is both of those things on a regular basis, but she’s careful with what she says and how she says it. If she’s said she loves the Doctor, then those words aren’t to be taken lightly. 

What if she’s messed it all up? What if Yaz decides she can’t travel with her anymore because the Doctor is such a plonker? Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, though. At least then, Yaz would have a chance at a normal, human life, with normal, human friends. The Doctor wouldn’t have to worry about a piece of her hearts so much if it was back safe on 21st century Earth, oblivious to danger. But then, Yaz is a police officer. She’s in danger at work, she’s in danger with the Doctor, and Earth isn’t the safest place in the universe, either. These thoughts run through the Doctor’s head, keeping her quieter than usual, and the TARDIS is chiding her with beeps and clicks.

When they open the door, it’s dark, and the stars above them feel unfamiliar to the Doctor. It doesn’t look like stars from Earth. In fact—

“Whoops, wrong place,” the Doctor laughs nervously and pulls Yaz back inside the TARDIS.

They move toward the console, but the TARDIS has gone quiet. Still, like she’s hibernating. The Doctor goes to see where and when they’ve landed. “Oh, no, no. This isn’t right!”

“Where are we, Doctor?”

“Fierol. In the middle of their Civil War. 

“A civil war? Doesn’t sound too good,” Yaz frowns. The Doctor wonders what’s going on in her head. “Well, we’re here now. There must be a reason for it,” Yaz sighs.

“I wanted to ride on the cable cars,” the Doctor grumbles, and Yaz’s shoulders relax. 

“Me, too.” Yaz laughs. “But we can go on a proper date, later. With cable cars and souvenir shops, and maybe some little Portuguese custard tarts.”

“Oooh, love a custard tart. That sounds good.” When she looks up, she finds Yaz’s dark eyes gazing quietly on her from far too close for comfort.

The Doctor swallows, her hearts beating loudly. Can Yaz hear her pulses? Because they feel loud.

“Alright, let’s go!” The Doctor says with too much enthusiasm. “You’re right, the TARDIS must want us here for a reason. Let’s find out what she’s up to.”

But Yaz is still looking at her, and for a moment, the Doctor falters. “What’s wrong?” She asks, wondering if she’s got crumbs on her mouth or maybe her hair is doing something funny. Not that the Doctor particularly cares, but she is worried about that look.

“Nothing,” Yaz finally says. “You just, you look tired. Have you rested since you got out of space prison?”

“Who needs rest?” She replies cheerily, before turning and marching out of the TARDIS.

Yaz rushes to keep up, the Doctor can hear the branches on the forest floor breaking underneath their feet. “Doctor, this isn’t over. Before Lisbon, you are going to take a breather. Maybe a nap. Definitely a nap.”

“Nah, don’t need that!” The Doctor bares her teeth in an approximation of a smile. God, she’s getting good at these.

Yaz doesn’t reply, but the Doctor can see the frown in her periphery as Yaz keeps up with her unforgiving pace. 

Yaz’s hand brushes against the Doctor’s with every step up the hill, and the Doctor is beginning to feel her resolve fraying. Maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt. Especially not if she could cuddle up to Yaz—her brain short circuits, then, from the idea of them together in bed.

This was supposed to be a date, though, and once the Doctor admits her feelings, she doesn’t hold out for long. At least, she never used to. She hasn’t dated anyone in this particular form, but some things never change, really. When she doesn’t want someone, she is fine, doesn’t need sex to cope, but when she does? It’s different. And she wants Yasmin Khan so much, she aches with it.

“You’re quiet.” Yaz observes.

“Me? Never.”

“Doctor, look at me.” She stops and the Doctor nearly stumbles.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t look okay, and it’s not just 'cause you’re tired.”

She considers Yaz. Concern in her expression, a sheen of sweat on her upper lip, and a frown on her mouth. Okay, so maybe she’s not being fair. The Doctor looks down at her boots.

“Yaz, I… I had a lot of time to think in prison. You don’t know me.”

Yaz quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t be silly, Doctor. Of course I know you.”

“Do you? I’ve hurt so many people. Countless. Billions of ‘em. Probably trillions.” The Doctor knows she isn’t exaggerating, but maybe Yaz will think she is. “It’s not hyperbole. I try to help, but in the end, so many lives are lost, or trapped.” 

Quiet for a moment. The Doctor wonders if she’s finally got through to her, but then Yaz speaks.

“The way I see it,” Yaz says, “you’ve been dealt a bad hand. You try to help. Most people don’t even do that. Try, I mean. You can’t live life afraid of the endings. I know you will probably live a longer life than I can even begin to imagine, but you’ve got to enjoy the moments as they come. I’m here, now, and sure, one day I’ll die. It’s part of being human. But let me make my own decisions, yeah?”

The Doctor breathes. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Sometimes, she gets so caught up in protecting the ones she loves, she forgets that they have agency. “You’re right. But whatever decision you make, it’s got to be informed.”

“Telling me how the people you’ve loved died isn’t going to scare me away,” Yaz deadpans.

The Doctor startles, then laughs bitterly. “I didn’t think it would, Yaz. Just thought you might want to know what you’re in for.”

“I’m not daft.” There’s a short bark of incredulity. “I’ve been travelling with you for years now, and nearly every time, I wonder if I’ll ever see my family again. But it doesn’t matter. I knew what I’d signed up for the first time I met you. What’s the point of living if you never live? Would you change loving those people you lost?”

The Doctor grumbles. “I don’t know.” She doesn’t. She always starts out with the best of intentions, but always ends up hurting people.

“Would you change meeting me?”

“Never,” the Doctor breathes.

In a move that is daring even for Yasmin Khan, she takes the Doctor’s hand in both of her own. “You say I don’t know you, but Doctor, I know the best of you. That’s enough.” She squeezes the hand, then lets go. The Doctor is bereft of her touch.

“Yaz,” her voice sounds strained even to her own ears, but then there’s an explosion off in the distance. The Doctor’s head snaps up. “That can’t be good.”  
Yaz’s expression reminds her of determination, and she runs toward the sound. Girl after her own hearts, Yaz is. The thought makes the Doctor smile briefly, and she bounds after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK what this is. But I'm having the most fun writing I've had in over a year, so. :) Also, two updates in two days. Probs not gonna happen again tomorrow. Might be a weekend thing if I'm lucky. Last week of an old job and first week of a new job in the next two weeks. Also, as always happens with a new fandom, I am bursting with ideas. Find me at actuallymee on tumblr and send me prompts! I'm thinking of a Phantom of the Opera thasmin fic. Dunno how it'll play out, though. We'll see!
> 
> Also, ALSO, still need a beta. Will pay with fic.


	3. Chapter Three

“So, tell me about Fierol and the Civil War,” Yaz asks. It’s almost conversational, and the Doctor wonders if it’s because she’s gone quiet again.

“Not much to tell. It’s ugly, and lots of people die. The rebels lose, too, and the regime endures for another hundred years before the Revolution manages to oust the fascists. But the bigger question is why the TARDIS brought us here? I can’t interfere in a planet’s whole history, not something as big as this.”

They slow up as they get to the explosion site, people milling around the area like ants all over a picnic. There are shouts and cries, and there are children. They’re being set up against the wall as adults are forced to watch a line of soldiers turn rifles on the kids. A particularly handsome woman with a curl to her smile raises her hand and the Doctor has a second to react. She sets her sonic to disable the guns, and the handsome woman’s smile turns to a frown. The children flinch and the adults cry out, but the rifles do not go off.

Already, she’s reaching into her infinite pockets for her psychic paper and marching up to the soldiers, Yaz in tow.

“Hello, what’s going on here?” She demands as the handsome woman looks at the paper. “General Loran.” She looks down at the Doctor, annoyance in her eyes and then her eyes sweep to Yaz. Her lip curls again, fire in that gaze, and the Doctor feels dread pool in her belly. She doesn't like when people look at Yaz like that. Especially not when those people just tried to kill a whole load of kids.

“Yes, that’s me, General Loran,” The Doctor’s tone is sharp and demanding, and she almost winces at how authoritative she sounds. “I want to know what’s going on here. What’s your name? Your rank?”

“Brigadier General Nole, ser.” She gives a sharp salute and the Doctor feels herself freeze up as she realises that she is in the presence of the woman who will win this war. She will become Supreme Ruler of Fierol for a time, and she has a reputation for assassinating commanding officers.

Nole’s smirk returns as her gaze falls once more to Yaz. “I asked you what is happening here,” the Doctor demands again.

“Just following orders. Making the problem go away. Who is this delicious creature, General?”

The Doctor falters for a second, and Yaz saves the day. “I’m her companion.” There’s a stubborn tilt to Yaz’s head, and the Doctor’s hearts swell. 

“Companion? Is that what your girls are calling themselves these days, General?” Nole scoffs.  
The Doctor rolls her eyes. Of course the psychic paper would tell them she’s someone with a reputation, but maybe that has less to do with the psychic paper and more to do with Fierol in this time.

“You’re going to let these people go,” the Doctor demands.

The Brigadier General falters, for once off-kilter. She eyes the Doctor suspiciously. “My orders were to—”

“I don’t care. My orders are for you to let these people go.”

The Doctor is aware how risky this is, not just for her and Yaz right in this moment, but also for the time continuum. That said, she’s not going to let a bunch of bullies kill children to make a point to their parents about obedience, not if she can do anything about it.

Nole’s eyes bore into the Doctor, but it’s nothing she can’t handle. Then she smiles, expression languid and loose. “Yes, ser.” She shouts an order to her people, and the parents are freed to grab their children. Some shake and cry, others just numbly hold on to each other. They are sent on their way under the Doctor’s stern instruction.

The sun is setting on the horizon when Nole invites them into her tent. “Nah, we need to get back.” The Doctor really doesn’t like the way Nole is looking at Yaz. Like she’s a piece of meat, or a prize to be won. Yazmin Khan is so much more than that.

“If I’d known you were here with one of your girls, General, we would have scheduled the raid for another day,” Nole says motioning for one of her underlings. “I know how this sort of thing ruins the mood, but you really can’t let your desire to impress the ladies to impede your role. That being said, I can understand why you did it. She really is something.”

The Doctor doesn’t respond, but Yaz waves her hand. “I’m right here, yanno.”

Nole steps closer, getting in Yaz’s personal space, and takes a lock of Yaz’s hair in her hand.

“Oh trust me. I know.”

Yaz begins to stutter, whether from anger or embarrassment, the Doctor will never know, but that doesn’t matter.

This monster, this killer, she’s touching Yaz, and the Doctor won’t stand for it. “Leave her alone.” There’s an edge to her words, and if Nole knows what’s good for her, she won’t ignore the implied threat.

Nole drops Yaz’s hair but doesn’t step away from Yaz. She turns to smile at the Doctor. “I’d always heard you were good at sharing, but I probably wouldn’t want to share either if I had this one all to myself. Shame, though. We could’ve had a lot of fun.”

The Doctor feels the heat spark to her cheeks at the implication. Nole’s hungry gaze is now turned to the Doctor.

Then, Nole smiles and gets in the Doctor’s space. Despite her instinct to move away, the Doctor doesn’t give an inch. Nole leers down at her and says quiet, so quiet the Doctor almost misses it. “Pity for you, too. I could have overlooked an indiscretion like impersonating a General. Not a very good spy, are you now? I thought you lot had no reservations about this sort of thing."

“Yaz, run.” The Doctor goes to grab Yaz’s hand, but Yaz is already being grasped by two soldiers, both with stoic expressions as she kicks her feet out and struggles in their grips.

Then the Doctor herself is being dragged backwards, a rag pressed to her face and the scent of chloroform in her nose. 

The last thing she sees is Yaz’s body slumped in her captors’ arms before the darkness covers her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd rewritten this chapter ten times this week until I figured out what I wanted doing.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some unwanted sexual advances in this chapter, so if that's not something you can read, please take care of yourself first.

The Doctor watches from the other corner of the tent as Yaz comes to. Nole’s been here for a while, just watching, waiting for Yaz to wake up. It’s been torture, watching Nole watch Yaz, and wondering if their methods have hurt Yaz more than they should’ve. The people on this planet, in this era, they’re a bit hardier biologically than 21st century Earth humans. 

The Doctor sighs. “You don’t have to watch her, yanno. We’re both tied up. Not much we can do to you in this state.” The Doctor hears her words slur and vaguely wonders what exactly Nole did to them. 

Nole reaches out to touch Yaz’s face, and a blinding headache throbs at the Doctor’s temples.

“Hello, pet,” Nole says to Yaz, pointedly ignoring the Doctor. Oh, she really doesn’t like that, but she’s unsure if she doesn’t like being ignored, or if she doesn’t like her calling Yaz pet. When Graham does it, it’s affectionate. When Nole does it, it’s possessive and creepy. Then she notices Nole is running her fingers across a barely conscious Yaz’s lips. Yaz groans and Nole smiles. It’s like the Doctor is watching through a fog.

“Responsive little thing, aren’t you?”

Yaz groans again and then the Doctor watches as she tries to yank her face away from Nole’s hand. Terror and adrenaline spike in the Doctor’s chest, and maybe it isn’t the smartest thing, but Nole is hurting her friend, and being an all-around lech. 

“Oi, leave Yaz ‘lone.”

Yaz winces like she’s in pain as Nole grips her face. She glares up at Nole and all traces of friendliness drain from Nole’s expression.

“Sheep, the lot of you.” Her gaze softens as her thumb continues its path over Yaz’s lower lip. “You don’t know what’s good for you. You don’t understand the chaos of anarchy. We guide you. Protect you from danger! And you repay us by disobeying orders. You—” here, she looks at the Doctor. “Whoever you are, you’ve just delayed the inevitable. Well, you’re both in for a nasty surprise. You will watch as those families burn.

Yaz laughs, a little hysterically. “If you think she’s going to let you do that, then you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

The woman lets go of Yaz’s face and Yaz slumps backward in relief.

Nole whispers something in Yaz’s ear, something the Doctor can’t hear. She winces as Yaz spits on Nole’s cheek, and Nole just laughs! The Doctor can recognize unhinged when she sees it, and this woman is definitely insane. 

“I like you,” Nole says. “Not just a pretty face, then. You’ve got fire.”

“God, d’you really get off on talking to people like that?” The Doctor grimaces at the desperation behind her words. She could probably be a little nicer, try to convince her that she needs to let them go, but that fuzziness in her brain is making it difficult to think outside of the rage and the fear. The Doctor’s not afraid for herself. If it were just her, she’d be fine, but it’s not. It’s Yaz caught in the crossfire.

The woman raises an eyebrow. “If you want to know what gets me off, you’re more than welcome to find out.” She’s answering the Doctor but looking at Yaz.

“Ugh, I hate you so much,” Yaz grits out, and the woman stands to peer down at Yaz. The Doctor hates feeling helpless, tied up and at the mercy of this corny wannabe Bond villain.

“What d’you want?” The Doctor is desperate for Nole to leave Yaz alone. 

“I want to know who you are. And this one? I want to know what she’s like.” Nole licks her lips darkly; the Doctor rages.

Yaz slumps and the Doctor can see her glowering. Then, her expression changes, turns to steely resolve, and the Doctor would give anything to know what Yaz is thinking right now.

“If I do what you want, will you let us go?”

“Yaz, no!” No, no, no, this is so bad. Yaz can’t, she can’t be offering herself up like this. But then, what’s the alternative, the Doctor wonders hopelessly. Her sonic is in her pocket, and her hands can’t reach, and Yaz is the one who’s bearing the brunt of this.

“I know what I’m doing, Doctor,” Yaz says, her voice calm.

Nole is laughing, a sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, this is fun. Lover’s tiff. You could always join us, Doctor.” The Doctor’s name sounds like a joke in Nole’s mouth.

The Doctor clamps her mouth shut. She won’t be party to this. Yaz shouldn’t have to do this to get them out. She shouldn’t have to compromise herself just to free them. This is the Doctor’s fault; her fault that she can’t save them, her fault that Yaz has been coerced into this, her fault, her fault, her fault. Like usual. The Doctor has never been much of a crier. Some of her previous iterations, maybe, but this body is full of steely resolve and deflective humour. Still, she can feel the tears tracking down her cheeks, sniffs to keep her nose from dripping. Okay. Turns out this body is a messy crier.

Nole releases Yaz from her bonds, and Yaz takes her hand, smiling, pulling herself up. Then, in a movement so quick that the Doctor almost misses it, she bashes Nole’s head against the wall. Relief floods the Doctor’s system

Within moments, she has Nole wrapped up in the same rope that Yaz had been bound with just moments before, and then Yaz is reaching toward the Doctor, untying her with something like incredulity on her face.

“You’re crying,” Yaz wipes a tear away, and the gesture releases a fire in the Doctor’s core. For Rassilon’s sake, what is wrong with her? “You didn’t think I was actually going to—”

“Yasmin Khan, you are brilliant, you are. I did, sorry, think you were gonna—you know. But that’s because I forgot how bloody smart humans can be. I could kiss you!”

Yaz shuffles, looks anywhere but at the Doctor’s face, and the Doctor realises what she’s said too late.

“Er, I mean—”

“We need to get out of here Doctor. I don’t know how long she’ll be like this.”

The Doctor nods, withdraws a handkerchief from her pocket and stuffs it into the unconscious Nole’s mouth. “That’ll give us a bit more time.”

Yaz nods and takes the Doctor’s hand. The way it slots there, warm and comforting, makes tears prick at the Doctor’s eyes, again. She squeezes, and they make their escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start my new job tomorrow, so again, probs no updates 'til Friday or Saturday. Wish me luck!
> 
> Also, also, I'm really anxious about this chapter and I'm not sure why. Welp!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, more mentions of assault in this chapter though we don’t put Yaz through more of that.

She takes her home, and they don’t talk about it. The Doctor is the king, or queen, or whatever, of avoidance, especially when she feels guilty. And she feels so guilty. The memory of Nole touching Yaz sticks with her, makes her feel sick with fear and _jealousy_ of all things. Can’t have that, so she ignores Yaz. She makes sure that she is never alone with her. Of course, she still wants Yaz around, they’re family at this point, and more than that besides. But them alone is not a good idea.

In retrospect, maybe total avoidance isn’t the best thing. The boys are starting to realise something’s up, and Yaz looks like she’s on the verge of tears whenever they have any downtime.

“Sooo, Yaz told me about Fierol.”

The Doctor winces. Yaz’s gone to her room, and Graham is enjoying a cuppa and the football on the holographic telly. Of course, Ryan would corner her now, as she’s tinkering, or trying to, anyway, with the control panel again. Trying to get a smoother ride after the last time, when Yaz had almost fallen into her arms from the force of their landing. The look on her face had been equal parts hopeful and terrified.

“Oh?” She finally answers.

“Yeah. Doctor, she’s sad.”

There it is, that twinge of guilt slowly but surely eating her alive.

“And you’ve been well quiet since last week,” he continues. “I’ll bet you’re sad, too.”

The Doctor sighs. “What exactly did she tell you?”

“That you were supposed to go to Lisbon, and instead you ended up in the middle of a warzone. And you got yourselves kidnapped. And the lady who kidnapped you had a thing for Yaz. She thinks she did something wrong, y’know. She feels like she let you down.”

“Ryan Sinclair, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well I’m not the one who said it.”

“She were fine! I’m just…”

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to tell that to, Doctor. You’ve been avoiding her. Granddad wanted to have a chat with you, and he probably will, too, after the footy, but just talk to her, y’know? Might make her feel less lonely. She, uh…” Ryan stammers; the Doctor can see his hands fidgeting from this angle. “I think she’s half in love with you.” His voice sounds weak. “Okay, I’m done.”

The console creaks as he pushes away from it, and his trainers pad across the room, and then the Doctor is alone.

The worst part of all this? Knowing that Yaz is hurting, proper hurting, and it’s the Doctor’s fault.

She slides out from under the console and stands. Before she knows it, her traitorous feet lead her to Yaz’s room. She hasn’t been in Yaz’s room since she claimed it. It used to be a bathroom, a really fancy one. She doesn’t know what the TARDIS’s done with it since, but she highly doubts that it’s just a bathroom now, though the image of Yaz sliding into the hot tub sized bath makes her feel really warm and tingly.

Her fingers are rapping on the worn wood before she can think it through. It’s a light knock, and she hopes that maybe Yaz won’t hear as she turns away to leave. Knocking were a bad idea anyway. What does Ryan know?

She doesn’t even hear the door open.

“Doctor?”

She freezes in place, and Yaz sighs, but there’s a tearful edge to it. “Are you mad at me? I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Oh. Oh, no. The Doctor spins around. “Oh Yaz, I’m not mad at you.”

Yaz nods solemnly. “Want to come in?”

The Doctor hesitates, about to walk away but something about the vulnerability in Yaz’s face makes her answer, “yes.”

“I won’t jump you, I promise.” Yaz smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Oof, the Doctor recognizes that expression, but only because she’s seen it in her reflection when she’s trying too hard.

She never wants to see Yaz fake a smile at her ever again.

She steps into the room decidedly, and they stare at each other.

“I’m sorry,” they say at the same time, and then the Doctor crinkles her nose. “What have you got to be sorry about?”

“I didn’t… I weren’t, I mean, I didn’t want her to touch me. I love _you_ , Doctor. I just, I know you’re telepathic, and I know that you could tell that I reacted when she touched me, but only because it’s been a while and I usually like being tied up, and it was weird, just so weird, but I was so scared and I feel like I betrayed you.”

“Yaz,” the Doctor breathes. “I’d never blame you for reacting. Bodies are weird, and they do weird things sometimes. I mean, honestly, I’m only a touch telepath. Wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me just now, but even if I had, that’s not why… it’s not why I’ve been distant.”

Yaz sits on her bed, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Her laughter has a touch of mania to it. “Then why? I thought we were going to try?”

“Because being with me is going to be the death of you.” Yaz opens her mouth to speak, but the Doctor interrupts. “I know you think you understand, but the women I love tend to die horrible, painful deaths. Even those I love platonically. The fam has a fighting chance together, but if I’m selfish with you, I just, I don’t want to lose you! And I was selfish with you, can’t you see? On Fierol? And I let you get hurt. I let you get harassed.”

Yaz scoffs. “If you aren’t mad at me for reacting when she touched me, then I’m not mad at you for trying to save a bunch of kids. You did your best.”

“My best isn’t good enough.” The Doctor leans against the door and slips down to the floor. “You coulda been seriously hurt. Yaz, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Come sit here,” Yaz offers, patting the space next to her on the bed. Not a good idea, the Doctor notes, but she rises off the floor and goes to sit beside her, anyway. 

“I’m hurting right now,” Yaz begins. “We’re stuck in an odd place, Doctor, and I don’t know what to do with myself. If you didn’t want me, that’d be one thing, I think. I’d get over it. But it hurts me that you want me because there’s always the possibility.”

Their arms brush, and the Doctor can’t help the thought that she shares. _I love you so much._

Yaz doesn’t jump away as if she’s been burnt. She doesn’t freak out. Instead, her expression softens.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, and the Doctor, who has never been very good at saying no to her friends, nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you all have Thasminlover2021123 to thank for the early update and the direction this fic took. I didn't quite take their idea, still might, who knows, but it kicked my writer's block right in the bum. So thanks babs!
> 
> Also thanks to my beautiful wife who distracted me all week ;)
> 
> Also, also, thanks to all the commenters! You have been brilliant, really really brilliant, and I'm so pleased you like my short little updates.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the explicit rating change.
> 
> Fuck me, it didn't update, so, I've updated now. PLEASE NOTE THE EXPLICIT RATING CHANGE.

It’s all quiet warmth when Yaz kisses her, none of the manic energy that usually follows the Doctor’s impulsivity. Though, she supposes maybe this isn’t impulsive. 

Her thoughts short-circuit when Yaz brings her hand to the Doctor’s cheek. The gentleness of Yaz’s thumb across her skin is too much, and a soft sound escapes from her mouth against Yaz’s. Yaz deepens the kiss, and the Doctor lets her. Gods, it’s been too long since she was kissed. A high pitched groan this time as Yaz’s tongue explores the Doctor’s mouth.

Yaz pulls back and rests her forehead against the Doctor’s. “You okay? Is this okay?”

The Doctor’s face is warm and she’s having a hard time catching her breath. She swallows and nods. “I liked that.” It’s a revelation. “Last body wasn’t too keen on touching.”

Yaz nods, and her lips brush the Doctor’s cheek. 

“You’re crying.” It takes Yaz saying it for the Doctor to recognise the salt on her tongue.

“I…”

Yaz pulls away. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“No?” There’s a question in Yaz’s eyes.

“No, I don’t want to stop. Please don’t stop.” She knows she sounds breathless, but it’s hard to breathe when Yaz is looking at her with compassion and love and desire. All her previous resolve to steer clear dissipates with the feel of Yaz under her hands. Without a care for her past, her trauma, she throws caution to the wind. Her eyes focus on Yaz’s lips before she chases that sweet mouth with her own.

Yaz melts against her: pliable, putty in the Doctor’s hands. The heady rush of desire pools between the Doctor’s legs. “Tell me you want this?”

Yaz nods, breathless, “Yeah,” and that is all that the Doctor needs before she pushes Yaz onto the bed, bracing her weight on one hand as the other fists in Yaz’s hair. She tries, really she does, not to pull too hard, but the pained noise from Yaz pushes her out of her lust-induced haze.

“Too tight?” The Doctor asks, immediately releasing Yaz’s hair.

“I think I liked it,” Yaz admits, but the Doctor is more careful this time. She doesn’t want to hurt Yaz. Never wants to hurt Yaz; Yaz deserves kindness and pleasure and joy and oh. Yaz is kissing her neck, her hot mouth against the Doctor’s skin.  
“Yaz, please, don’t stop.” 

“No intention of stopping,” and the Doctor can feel Yaz smile against her skin. Oh no, Yasmin Khan is trouble, the best kind of trouble, and really the Doctor should have realised that by now, because—what on earth is that?

“You okay?” Yaz asks when the Doctor freezes.

“I… do that again?” It comes out a lot more pleading than she would’ve liked.

“This?” Yaz teases, but then she does; she brushes her hand across the Doctor’s still clothed nipple. The Doctor feels a twinge on her clit, the feeling causing her hips to buck, and Yaz smiles up at her like the Doctor has just said something particularly clever.

Rassilon, nothing should have the right to feel that good.

“It’ll feel nicer if you take off your shirts,” Yaz suggests.

Heat travels up the Doctor’s cheeks, and honestly, this body flushes far too easily for her liking. “Yasmin Khan, are you trying to get me out of my clothes?” She sits back, admiring Yaz’s kiss-swollen lips and the heavy up-and-down of her chest.

“Yeah,” Yaz says, and then she’s pulling her jumper off of her body, clad in nothing but a lacy black bra and her denim trousers. The jumper drops to the floor with a soft thump. “Your turn.”

The Doctor nods mutely and undoes her braces before tugging her shirts over her head. They join Yaz’s jumper. Yaz pulls the Doctor toward her again, and her fingers brush over the Doctor’s exposed sides. Her hands are warm, so warm, and the thrill of it bubbles up in the Doctor’s chest. “Yaz!” she gasps. Yaz has tugged up her sports bra over her breasts, and those clever, clever fingers of hers have found the Doctor’ nipples, rubbing them ever so carefully.

She overwhelms the Doctor with her touch, and somehow, Yaz manages to swap places so that the Doctor is underneath. She gasps when Yaz takes one of her nipples in her sweet mouth. 

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Yaz says against her chest. “God, your tits are amazing.”

The Doctor sighs. She’s gone from embarrassment through to the other side, and when Yaz says things like that, it just makes her want.

“Don’t stop.” She manages to gasp when Yaz’s hands move closer to the Doctor’s trousers. 

Yaz laughs, breathless and beautiful. “I’m not stopping.”

Her hands flutter against the Doctor’s belly. This is too much. She feels like she’s burning, like her every nerve ending is on fire, and Yaz’s touch both cools and ignites that fire.

Before she can realise what’s happening, the Doctor’s trousers are off, and Yaz is kissing her way down the Doctor’s body. “Tell me what you want?” Yaz looks so vulnerable when she asks that, really hesitating for the first time this evening.

“You,” the Doctor says, holding her gaze.

Yaz grins wickedly at her, the traces of uncertainty gone. “Be specific, Doctor.”

“I want you to touch me.” That last word ends on a whine as Yaz’s fingers dip into the side of her pants to find the slick flesh underneath.

She’s tried this on her own recently, after Yaz’s declaration. How could she not? But it doesn’t compare to Yaz touching her. Once Yaz’s fingers start tracing her clit, it’s over for the Doctor. She registers that she’s saying something, but she can’t focus when Yaz’s fingers are sliding over her, into her, and oh, that feels so good, so good, she’s going to come. She’s too wound up to hold on any longer, and she wants to, she wants to for Yaz, but Yaz feels so good and she’s—

“Yaz!” Her name is ripped from the Doctor’s throat, and Yaz slows then, guiding her through the orgasm. Her mouth replaces her fingers in a moment, her pants discarded somewhere, and the Doctor trembles. Her tongue is exquisite, so warm and quick and stars, this isn’t fair. The Doctor wants to show Yaz how good she can make her feel, and it’s impossible with her tongue stroking her clit. The Doctor comes again, and when Yaz doesn’t stop, she comes again.

Finally, Yaz takes mercy on her, the Doctor’s arousal all over her chin, and she grins, the lights in the room reflecting like a galaxy in her eyes. 

“C’mere.” The Doctor’s voice is hoarse in her own ears, and Yaz is compliant when she leans in for a kiss.

The Doctor makes short work of Yaz’s knickers. It’s easy enough, to touch her, to make her gasp and writhe and beg. She loves the way that Yaz begs, “Doctor” on her lips and her hands fisted in the sheets.

Yaz is magnificent when she comes, vocal, begging for release, begging the Doctor, “please, please, let me come.”

And who is she to deny Yaz anything?

They hold each other, and as sleep claims Yaz, the Doctor decides to stay for as long as Yaz will have her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I wanted to explore the Doctor's trauma a bit more but that didn't happen. Let me know what you thought! I'm thinking of roommates au next as London is on lockdown and there's nothing happening workwise.
> 
> Would you like a roommates AU? Should I not have made it explicit? Let me know.
> 
> Also, I know they never went to Lisbon, and I'm so sorry. Maybe next time, everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Doctor Who fic! Maybe this is a one-off, but if there's enough interest, maybe I'll continue? Who knows. 
> 
> Also, very much looking for a beta reader.


End file.
